Plumeria
by To Salute
Summary: OneShot Sasunaru. Sasuke is always practical.


Plumeria

By: Salute

Disclaimer: Not Mine

With June comes a breathy sort of hotness carried in the air, and each breeze a delicate sigh made for carrying dying sakura blossoms. Its all, in a prudent sense with very little poetic lilt, a sight that few people take time to notice. But he is here now, with half a lunch in his lap and the bark pressing a scaly lump into the back of his neck, so he has a little time to analyze it while Naruto finishes the last thin grains of his _onigiri_, if he really wants to.

He doesn't, and thumbs oiled fabric along the spine of a needle, which is a more practical use of his time.

The needle is deposited into the pack sitting by his thigh, done in a completely unhurried fashion. The wind is picking up, meaning the dust and gravel from their trail parallel of him and only three feet away will lift and perhaps stick to his newly polished weapons. The precision of the throw will be thrown off by some small percentage if he doesn't take care. Naruto, who is on his back after tossing the leaves of his _onigiri_ off to the side, probably can't be arsed to care, even as a small whirl saunters tantalizingly close to his open take-away of dango.

"Do you think," he scratches with bitten nails along the nearly sun burnt patch of tummy, "that Sakura was actually sick, or did she just want to bail on us for this stupid temple visit?" Naruto pauses, considering the sky, or maybe the butterfly fluttering above him in jaunty flight. Sasuke flickers his eyes up from the needle to a disjointed picture of flesh, white cotton, and distractingly bright orange between the V of his feet and the tall grass. They were fortunate to find a tree at all in a landscape that, from a distance, could look like a mass of blue and green with a ribbon of caramel-colored road placed to disrupt the solidity.

A hand juts out from the dirt and colors to swipe at the butterfly. It jumps before following the next breeze in an uplift of sharp-winged stabs before Naruto covers his stomach in a way that borders on defensive.

"I mean, I guess I can understand Kakashi being a total shitface and making up some excuse for not coming, but you'd think that Sakura would be here to at least make eyes at your ugly ass."

A jealous undertone lingers in Naruto's voice, of course. The barking chuckle he emits (no one else is going to laugh at his jokes but himself) is expectedly bitter, as strong and poignant now as it was three years ago, when they were all 13 and stupid. At one point, Sasuke understood only an overwhelming resentment at being blamed for something that he would have changed in an instant if he knew how (stupid girls; useless, all of them) but he is beyond even the sick feeling of annoyance. He'd be curious, if it mattered to him at all. Sasuke can't fathom the idea of a crush, even more disturbing a crush that can last this long.

"Hey, put the fucking sebon down for once and answer a goddamn question, yah?"

He does, once the needle is clean. The breeze picks up again, along with the black of his eyes that just doesn't fit with the surrounding greens and dappled shades of pink. A scent of sweet dumplings carries through the air. It makes Sasuke want to twitch his nose, because how can someone stand such a sugary, sticky thing on such a sticky, scorching day? But Naruto lacks practicality in the way that he lacks any class or notion to listen when other people are trying to talk sense to him. Sasuke finds Naruto's face between the blades of grass- the boy is nibbling on a green dango, and isn't that typical.

"Sakura's reasons for her absence are of no interest to me, nor are Kakashi's failings in punctuality," he lets the words settle before he picks another sebon off the ground, rolls it between his fingers, "so fuck off and finish eating. We need to be at the temple soon."

That hand sticks up again, one finger protruding from the middle of his fist. "Fine, bastard. Did you stick one of those things up your ass when you woke up this morning?" In the breath it took to say his crude comeback, he has rolled on his side, facing Sasuke, and stretched like a sun-hungry dog before picking off another piece of dango. He bites into it, hums in pleasure and maybe boredom.

"You know," he chews and swallows, "I don't get why you haven't given Sakura at least a passing glance. I mean, I can't be the only one that thinks she's really hot." Sasuke looks away from his needle just as Naruto puts on a thoughtful face and says "Who do you think is more stacked, Hinata or Ino?"

His thumb slips a quarter of a centimeter to the right, and he misses a spot where tree sap had dried on the tip of his weapon. "Is that all you think about?" Sasuke's voice intones dry disbelief, but it really shouldn't (they are 16- the variety of this boy's interests has grown from ramen and training to include sex, and in much larger portions). He grunts to himself when he looks back down and sees a smudge, resumes cleaning and settles his expression into distinct uninterest. Naruto sits up with sweat and dirt coloring the back of his shirt into a light beige, sticking his tongue out as he twists back to look over his shoulder and at the damage. It's ironically innocent until he opens his mouth.

"Don't act like a priss. You make it sound as bad as the time I asked whether you'd ever considered a threesome between any two girls of your choosing." Naruto smiles faintly at the memory; that time he got Sasuke to snort into his green tea.

"Having self control doesn't make me a priss," the Uchiha counters, placing the last sebon in his pack and closing it with a silent snap of the lock.

"No…" Naruto begins, in a way that prompts more but he fails to deliver. The pause feels full of something…uncertain. Somehow, it seems very off and puts the Uchiha on alert. Sasuke stops tugging at the straps of his pouch and studies very new, very different facial contours.

Blue, awkward eyes stare at Sasuke. They taint the brow with a worried wrinkle, and the mouth is pulled into a curious and set frown. The intensity is a familiar thing, but not in such a calm setting (he isn't fighting, he isn't training, what is with this face?). The obvious anxiety itches, disturbing.

"Have you ever just wanted to fool around with someone? I mean, it wouldn't have to mean anything," he scratches his nose- its what Sasuke wants to do to this situation, "just…to let go of some frustration or something. I dunno, just to let go," he repeats without need and waits, still staring.

Sasuke has to stop this interrogation quickly and efficiently, so that the topic never comes up again. He can't just glare and snarl out a demand to stop- that response is ineffective against Naruto if Sasuke seriously wants and end to this. The beginnings of a surprise attack occupy the Uchiha for a moment, during the quiet that awaits his response. Then he has it.

As brings a leg up and leans on his knee, he mutters, in an offhanded way, "You sound like you are making an offer."

But Naruto doesn't take the proffered bait, he doesn't sputter and spit about how disgusting that is and end that conversation. When Sasuke casts dark eyes towards Naruto, he sees the boy leaning back onto the heels of his palms with a lip so dry and bitten that a little split down the middle begins to bleed. Sasuke knows that the other boy can't look at him; Naruto stares at a patch of grass, at nothing. He laughs a little at the supposed nothing.

"I mean, its not a weird thing, you know?" His voice is low, mumbling and a little weak. "I heard that ninjas do it all the time on missions, when the misses is stuck at home." Naruto tries to sound clinical about the matter, but it involves the two of them in a physical proximity that Sasuke has never given any thought about until now, when the stillness becomes too much and Naruto takes his dumplings under the shade of the tree.

He plops next to Sasuke, the box of dango in his lap and a twitchy smile on his face. "You look like a girl enough. Like a male version of Hinata, 'cept really bitchy and a lot less well-endowed."

Sasuke, whose back aches from the tension (this is stupid, he's too close), snorts. "Hardly. You have no room to talk about looking feminine, with your useless jutsu."

"You know you can never have enough of my love, baby," Naruto coos beside him, too close for comfort, but for only a heartbeat as Naruto trails fingers down the lines of Sasuke's wife-beater in what could have been a seductive manner had he not dipped them in the syrup from the dango. Its all a bit surreal, because though Naruto often plays with his friends, he knew better than to try the same intimacy with Sasuke. He thinks _knew_ and not _knows_, and the Uchiha gets irrationally tense because that line has been crossed.

A paler, stronger hand grips at a tan wrist.

"You are getting that shit all over me, fuckface."

The hand pulls, then yanks away and cuffs Sasuke's shoulder. "I'm just screwing around, asshole. I'm not serious or anything." But he sounds curious, maybe worried. Sasuke hopes Naruto has awakened from his daydream where it was suddenly okay to touch and pretend he is Shikamaru or someone else with a sense of humor.

"I dunno why you get so pissy about people touching you, I mean how are you ever going to get laid?" One last bite, and the dango is gone. Sasuke has Naruto's full attention. Fuck, but he doesn't want it. He refuses to speak, and just glares at another butterfly that flaps near his other foot.

"Maybe you should try kissing with someone you trust- its not a big deal, really."

He turns his face to the side, a cheek pillowed on his knee as he bites back on the snarl curling in his throat, and gives Naruto a measured look. "Why are you being so insistent on this?"

"Because…" the boy starts, a little anxious and confused, but bordering on pissed as well.

"Fuck, Sasuke, this isn't some complicated emotional shit. That's the point of fooling around- there aren't any emotions to deal with."

"What makes you think I want any part of this?" Its too hot to be this close and the air is sticky still with lazy sweat blossoming across their chests and backs, in the hidden alcove behind their knees.

"Because!" Naruto starts again, falters, then picks up his argument with desperation. "I trust you. You trust me, don't you?"

"You are my teammate," he answers.

While those words skitter along the edge of an answer, blue eyes darken in the shadow of the tree. Sasuke can't explain it, how can eyes change color? But maybe it's from the way Naruto's face pinches in concentration. The look suits him, makes him seem older. Then Naruto makes a decision.

There are hands on Sasuke's face, pulling him from the perch of his knee and pulling him closer. They are damp with sweat and the pulse point of his wrist grazes Sasuke's cheek. The beating is erratic, audible through the thin flesh covering his jaw. He should be resisting, but somehow that doesn't seem practical. A waste of energy, if only because Sasuke knows that Naruto is an unstoppable force when he decides he wants something.

They stop, unable to meet eyes. The collar of Naruto's shirt dips, rustles as the wind picks up. The needles clink in their bag, and Sasuke almost believes they were stirred by his heavy breathing. A pause, and then "You'll taste like dango."

A promised whisper across his lips. "I won't."

He doesn't, but Sasuke can't be sure. He is busy moving his mouth against dry lips, dyed red with the trickle from the cut and he tastes that, too. He hears the sounds of wetness colliding together. His eyes close, his hands are still until Naruto wraps arms around his shoulders, then his palms move to clutch at the pointy bones which make up that warm body's hips. They burn under the pads of his fingers- the pants are scalding, but the actual skin underneath feels of a different heat so he carefully places his hands under the white cotton tee. Really, his hands aren't that important (though he felt Naruto jerk when the thumb brushed the very edge of the hip, and Sasuke had the power to do that) because meshing their mouths into a compliment of light and cream takes much more concentration.

When he gasps, it sucks the air from Naruto's lungs, and their eyes are tilted downward, each watching the rise and fall of the other's chest as they finally pull apart. "See? Not so bad," Naruto murmurs, and how can they breathe at all? Even as they separate and stare at each other, the air is thick with their sweat, their panting.

Sasuke says nothing, but pulls his fingers away from Naruto's hips before they meld together, before skin sticks to skin until there is nothing left but a blend of flesh. He stands, inhales deeply the fragrant blossoms and tastes the syrup left on his tongue.

"We're going to be late. Come on, dumbass."

And as they walk to give the gods their blessing, with Naruto rattling off about nonsense by Sasuke's side, the Uchiha looks up into the sky, and sees what he didn't bother to notice before.

A canvas sky (there isn't a speck; not a cloud or a bird and so vividly clean that it almost seems unnatural) dotted now with petals colored like fluorescent rain.


End file.
